An Officer’s Duty (28 page)

Ia bit her lip to keep from laughing. Terranglo might be the interspecies trade tongue, and there were xenotelepaths capable of implanting most of the necessary language skills out there, or at least augmenting the lesson-learned skills, but that did not guarantee mastery.

“Captain, weapons fire from the first ship!” Jimenez warned her.

“Oh, it’s far too late for that,”
Ia warned the unseen enemy, still amused.

The
da Gama
rocked. Jinja-Marsuu cursed. “Dammit—we’re about to lose portside shields! What the
hell
are you up to, Ia?”

A feral grin curved her mouth. She ignored her fellow cadet, focusing instead on broadcasting her message.
“You can’t stop the signal once it’s been sent…and you have passed that threshold by one limb yourself. Stand down, or enter fully the Room for the Dead!”

“Weapons fire from the second ship!” Jimenez squeaked. “It…Captain, the trajectories are
missing
us! They’re firing on the
other
ship, sir!”

“And lo, I followed the words of the Prophet, for the Prophet was never wrong,”
Ia stated on the comm link to the second ship.
“Honor be upon your hides and your hands; let your nests stand strong with the wisdom displayed this day. We will continue on our way and convey this information to the Alliance Council, so that they can back up your saner decisions. Let all sentient acts be against these insurrectionists; let there be no path for them but a swift surrender, or the Door to the Room. This is a Dlmvla internal matter, we do concede. For your hands, we leave them.”

Closing the channel, she gave her last set of orders for the exercise.

“Cadet Ng, order the gunners to switch to Standby. Keep an eye on both Dlmvla, but do not order any weapons fire unless we ourselves are directly attacked,” Ia stated, addressing her bridge crew. “Bridge crew, tend to your stations. Repair teams are to focus on getting the FTL panels functional, and getting at least one hyperrelay back online as soon as possible. Divert all spare power to insystem thrusters, and get us the hell out of here before they change their minds. You have your orders: Execute.”

A ragged chorus of “Aye, sir!” met her commands.

Bruer shook his head slightly. “I don’t get it…
How
did you know there was another ship out there?”

“Careful observation leads to comprehension,” Ia repeated. “Look, can you remember that last run? We made it farther than we had in the previous three; you did a good job of navigating the initial hazards. But right before the last blow that destroyed us from the starboard, we were attacked from the
port
. You could feel it through the way the ship jolted around us from the
other
side.”

The overhead lights flashed in rapid-fire green. The bridge
door slid open, once again admitting their chief instructor. The primary screen at every station lit up, projecting his crisply dressed image across every duty station’s primary screen, both here and across the rest of the mock starship.

“Lieutenant Commander on deck!” Ng called out, announcing Spada’s approach.

“An excellent observation, Cadet Ia,” Spada said. He lifted his wrist and keyed in a few more commands on his arm unit. “However, I am curious about your choice of attack commands. Explain your reasons to your instructors and your crew.”

“It’s basic xenopsychology, sir,” Ia stated, lifting her chin. She knew her words were being projected around the ship, just as other Acting Captains had explained their own actions in earlier scenarios. “We could disable part of the first ship’s functionality, which is a defensive course of action, but if we actually damaged it to the point of endangering their crew, the second ship would be obligated by Dlmvlan honor-against-outsiders to take
their
side and destroy us, whatever information we might have carried. Using only the lasers on the first ship to disable some of their systems slowed down their attack on us, threatening them with the vulnerability of losing their shields, without threatening the integrity of their hull nearly as much as projectiles could.

“Using only the
projectiles
on the second ship couldn’t have harmed them beyond a little shake-up, since their own shields were still intact, but it also gave us the opportunity to force their weapons and ours to lock on to each other as the nearest, greatest threats, preventing all but a handful of missiles from actually making it through on either side.” She shrugged. “Once we had their attention without having to badly damage either ship, broadcasting the mission information on an EM bandwidth made the most sense for the next step. If it’s truly that politically sensitive, it won’t reach anybody’s satellite scanners for several more years, long past the point where it could cause us problems.
But
the information would be out there, and it could cause the threat of political repercussions.

“If we didn’t report in on time, ships would be sent to our last known coordinates,” Ia reminded the others, glancing their way. “Their sensors would pick up that broadcast as the Space Force scouted the system’s farthest edges, looking for lightspeed records
of what happened to us. It might be several days after the fact, or even several weeks, but they would pick it up relatively soon, and they would still have the information to bludgeon the rebel faction among the Dlmvla into complying with Alliance law. You can’t stop the signal once it’s been broadcast at light.”

“But that information was rated as Classified,” Jinja-Marsuu protested. “By broadcasting it, you violated the security protocols governing our mission, Cadet!”

“The
mission
was to get that information back to the Alliance by any means necessary,” Ia countered. “Look, it’s all well and good to hold an ace up your sleeve in a poker game where the stakes are life and death, like this situation was. But if it
remains
up your sleeve just because you’re holding out for a royal flush when you’ve already got the makings for a full house of aces and threes, you’ll lose the hand, lose the pot, and lose everyone else’s life right along with your own.”

Catching Spada’s wryly amused look, Jinja-Marsuu subsided.

“Besides,” Ia said, “since we haven’t gone missing and are still potentially capable of getting out of the system under our own efforts, that means we will report back in time. If no one has to come looking for us, then no one will go looking for any lightspeed signs of what happened to us, and
that
means no one but those Dlmvla will find that short-range broadcast, because they won’t need to know what happened to us. At least, they won’t find it until it’s several years down the road. By then, the whole matter will no longer be important, and thus no longer an interspecies embarrassment. So, yes, it was a calculated risk.”

“Cadet, is that the reasoning you’d give to a Board of Inquiry convened over your violation of security protocols?” Spada asked Ia.

“Aye, sir. Technically at the moment, this is still an internal matter for the Dlmvla to handle,” Ia offered. “The moment this information hits the Alliance Council hands, it becomes an interspecies incident,
if
the Dlmvla government in general doesn’t yet know about it. By offering the truth to the second ship, I am giving their command structure a chance to spread the information of the impending rebellion to their own people, which gives them a chance to contain it before the Alliance
has to step in. By giving the Dlmvla a chance to save face by handling the matter themselves, and not seriously damaging either vessel, they will look more favorably upon the Terran Empire in future interactions with our Space Force.

“My methods may not have been
orthodox
…but orthodox wasn’t getting us out of this situation alive. I may have bent a few military protocols of the Space Force, Commander, but I definitely followed the political policies of the Terran United Planets, sir. We are still in the process of achieving our mission objective, because we’re still alive enough to try.”

Spada studied her for a long moment, then dipped his head. “Well defended, Cadet. And technically just within the parameters of your mission. Not orthodox, as you said, but within the parameters nonetheless. Alright, Cadets,” he acknowledged, switching his gaze to the viewscreen pickups. “All of you have performed well in these simulations, and you have earned a break. Fill out your practice reports on all five runs, and have them turned in by twenty hundred hours tonight.

“Once again, Class 1252, there are five vouchers scattered throughout the ship. The clues to their whereabouts are being sent to your right secondary screens,” Spada informed his cadets, both in the bridge and across the ship. “When you have finished tidying your workstations, you will report to the nearest petty officer for an inspection of your stations. If everything comes back greenlit, you will be given permission to disembark. Don’t forget to come find me in the observation cabin behind the bridge if you find a Leave voucher. Spada out.”

Ia sighed and dug into her shirt pocket, pulling out a folded, tissue-thin square of paper. She held it up. “Here’s one of them, sir. Make sure this gets to Cadet Harper. He’ll know which member of his repair teams got that EM relay back online, allowing us to communicate with the enemy ships.”

Lieutenant Commander Spada raised his brows. “Now, how did you get that, Cadet? And why would you give it up?”

“I promised the repair team a voucher if they did as I asked. When I make a promise, sir, I carry it through,” Ia told the baffled officer, answering the second question first. “As for how I found it, I had a runny nose when we came on board, and went looking in the supply closet behind the bridge head for a fresh box of tissues. The voucher was tucked in one of the
storage bins. Since it’s now a Friday, we’re the last class on the ship before supper, and you didn’t offer any vouchers to Class 1252 earlier in the week, I figured this one was meant for us.”

“Give it to Cadet Harper and his team members yourself,” Spada directed her. He toggled his arm unit.
“All hands, stand down. This simulation is officially over. Cadets, you are free to search for the remaining four vouchers, but report in to the nearest petty officer to request permission to disembark by no later than seventeen hundred. I will be collecting all intact vouchers at the Deck 8 Juliett gantry. Spada out.”
Shutting off the link, Spada studied Ia, who was unbuckling her restraint harness. “I look forward to reading your incident reports, Cadet. Try to fill in a little more detail, this time?”

He left without waiting for her reply. The moment the bridge door slid shut behind the lieutenant commander, Bruer whistled under his breath. “You’re in for it now. That had better be a helluva strong, airtight incident report, ‘Acting Captain.’”

“Don’t I know it,” Ia muttered. She tucked the voucher back into her shirt pocket and stood up, extricating herself from the captain’s station. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a Leave pass to deliver.”

“One thing,” Bruer stated, stalling her. He lifted his chin. “You said I’d be in the same situation, only with the Salik, but you also said your choices were based on xenopsychology. The Salik are
nothing
like the Dlmvla.”

“True, and in that case, I’d advise you to shoot to cripple and kill. But make sure you don’t rush your shots,” Ia told him. “You’ll have just enough time, I think, to get it right. The rebellious Dlmvla in this scenario wanted to kill us outright. The Salik would want to cripple your ship, board it forcefully, and have you and your crew for lunch. I’d suggest faking a greater level of incapacity than you actually possess, taking the time to aim manually so their sensors don’t pick up a targeting lock, and destroying their guns just after their boarding pods are launched. But then, that’s what
I’d
do, were I in your shoes in that situation. Trying to run would only have them leaping on you from behind.”

“Maybe. But that’s presuming I ever end up in a situation like that,” he countered lightly. “God willing, the Blockade
will continue to hold. It has for two hundred years, after all. And it’s not like you’re a precog or anything.”

“God willing, yes,” Ia muttered dryly. She turned her attention to the others. “Good job under both Bruer and me, all of you.”

“Yes, good job,” Bruer added.

He joined Ia in waiting for the bridge petty officer to finish inspecting Jimenez’s station so that their own could be checked off as well. They exchanged a few murmurs, small talk about the day’s exercise, but otherwise waited quietly. It didn’t take long for Ia’s station to be cleared, nor for her to make her way down to where she knew Harper was located.

The ship was designed to simulate damage in the interior as well as the exterior, and she did pass a few “damaged” sectors. The Navy personnel who did the actual maintenance on the ship, playing the part of the enlisted crewmembers whom the cadets were supposed to order around, were checking over some of the “hardest hit” spots, but otherwise the ship was restoring itself to its proper shape. By the time she reached the heavily battered Engineering section, most of the various mechanisms had pulled themselves back together and petty officers were busy checking off each cadet’s duty station.

She found Cadet Harper going over some questions with a couple of his repair team members. As soon as he finished, Ia addressed him. “Thank you all for getting that comm relay set up in the last scenario, Cadet Harper.” She fished the voucher out of her pocket once more, holding it up. “So, who does this go to?”

Harper grinned and held out his hand. “Me. I told you I’d see to it personally.”

“It was
brilliant
,” one of the other cadets gushed. She grinned at Harper. “He wired the
handrail
on the upper engine deck for an antenna, and tuned it with a jury-rigged comm board. The whole
deck
became the transceiver!”

“And he did it in a matter of minutes, too,” the other female added, also smiling at him.

Blushing a little, Harper shrugged. “My mother works in R&D in the Special Forces on Dabin. She taught me a few tricks. I’ve had a lot of practice at improvising. I see you’re rather good at it, too, ‘Acting Captain’ Ia. One of the petty
officers down here in Engineering said that was the fastest escape a class has ever pulled on this particular scenario. At least, in the six years he’s been assigned here.”